Tales of the Cursed Sword
by Summer Spring Fall Winter
Summary: Various emotions comprised their souls. A mercenary and her sword. Two siblings and their village. Whether it be happiness, bliss, love, or vengeance, these things would bring them to the Cursed Sword.


It seemed just like another ordinary day in the world.

The sun was set in the early dawn, just enough to cast a fine morning fog over the lazy lands of the plains and forest. Every precious second, the life giving rays of the natural sun crept over the eternal lands, basking the earth and inhabitants with it's glory. With the dim darkness fading away fast into oblivion for the better half, light stepped into it's rightful place to breathe life into the lands. The trees held an earthly glow to them as the unseen rays casted energy upon their beings and revitalized them for the day. Colours of various purples and yellows blossomed fully as the morning mildew tickled petals and the earth kept nature in company. At first and for moments, nothing in the lands stirred. Then, a faint chirping echoed across the plains as a lone bird sung it's song. Slowly but surely, it became more accompanied with outbursts of soft and sharp chirps echoing across, each one communicating with the others. Then...

The ever present crow of a rooster.

"Mhm...ngh..."

A sliver of light casted itself upon a soft face. Lids closed peacefully in slumber took note of the powerful source as the expression soured momentarily. The instinctive shift of flesh and bone alliviated the discomfort as cool darkness found itself back into it's rightful place. Strands of roman pink fell into the face, tickling just enough to deprive an exhausted mind and body from the peaceful dark. Thinned cracked lips parted as air was expelled silently from forced lungs to clear the strands from the field, only to no avail. Trying to secure a better position, a single lithe arm snaked across the rusted metal leaning against the tree. It felt welcoming as the pleasant coolness toned down the intense heat felt, the slick organic threads crawling up the length of-

Wait...

Lapis lazuli opened one and a half to the arm resting upon the cool metal of a sword. What wasn't expected was the tentacle like growth that had crawled all over a naked arm, nearly drowning the pale skin in a sea of veins. Any fool would have merely dismissed the growth as pesky vines claiming a forged weapon long laid to rest. And it would have been exactly that too. That is, if the tentacles weren't rusty red and throbbing slightly.

That only meant one thing...

"Wakey wakey."

A hand rapped the weapon beside her.

"No soup for you."

A single inhuman eye opened from a barely noticeable slit from the sleek organic covered zweihander, blinking once or twice to rid itself from the morning sickness which had no trouble effecting anything and anyone. It's unfocused iris were hazed a dull yellow for seconds, then finally regained brightness as a blazing amber. The eye rolled half-way to give a halfhearted attempt at sarcasm, then seemingly glared into the soul.

"You do realize you are my vessel and I can use you any way I want..." A piercing eye roamed it's gaze, looking over the slim toned body of it's wielder. A ratty faded blanket which once covered the figure from a cold night and prying orbs was now at the half way mark of a slim waist. Oppression and deceit intent upon taking in every curvature, longing to drink deeply from the endless pool of nectar before it.

"Tis a morning when flowers bloom, no buin?"

The lustful tone sent a shiver down a half-awake spine, serving to break the cycle and reawaken her senses to full.

A free hand swept the tattered blanket back to her chest.

"Try me, yeobo."

The oversized weapon beside the woman burst out angry organic tentacles, each one bulging with pure rage and lust. Excited at the prospect to delve into pleasures of the flesh.

"With pleasure..."

* * *

"Sir, have you seen-"

A strong iron hand interrupted the voice, heeding to stay silent. With one arm held up, everything had suddenly become quiet, save the natural sounds of the forest. As with everything, it took a few precious seconds for everything to become still. To do nothing but watch and listen. Nothing but the birds and crickets of this earth. Nothing but the occasional whinny and cough. Nothing but the unbearable grating of plate on plate.

Then, it heeded. Faint and dying off in the distance, but heeded.

The arm slowly lowered, the hand opening two fingers, waving for two.

"Meyer, Peiper. I need you to scout the area thoroughly. Last week was when one of ours got lost in that wretched pocket."

The two men nodded confidently, unwavering resolve and loyalty displayed in their eyes.

"I have a feeling our package is nearby. You two are to secure and deliver." A grim frown. "If necessary, protect with your lives."

Two immediate nods.

"Remember, we're still in hot waters. Mixed in all over the place. Stay low and keep frosty you two."

Two more affirms.

"One more thing..."

A swivel of heads.

"Holy Free Holy."

* * *

The once raging pulsing tentacles eager to seek out warm flesh now recoiled back at the sight of an exposed core, steaming with heat and aching painfully with red life. A baleful orb transfixed to it in mild, no massive disgust, a lid unconsciously twitching at the pulsations it made every so often, never failing to ooze out slowly, like heavy and sweet. Amber honey flickered uncertainly from raging cajun to dullened dead as the orb nervously glanced from the red life to azure seas. It did so at erratic intervals, unsure of what to do or feel. If there was a heart, it would have exploded inside the cage and membrane into pulp. Meanwhile, lapus lazuli glared death at the zweihander, wishing to inflict divine punishment upon the rusted and organic slathered mess of a weapon. Just as if the Gods had answered her cry, roman pink locks drifted over vision to blot out the evil eye of the edge.

A pregnant moment of silence.

"Well, at least your still warm?"

Just as the woman was about to explode from rage, an unknown source did it for her.

Azure and amber darted their focus toward the source, intent and highly concentrated upon whatever it was, the mutual hatred bewteen them forgotten.

Without a second's pause, deft human hands and demonic tentacles snatched up the various military like garb and equipment, knowing and understanding what needed to be done. While lithe fingers forced on an elaborate combat skirt and struggled with a silver buckle, branches which looked more like blood vessels threw a white jacket over her shoulders. With seamless efficency and no time wasted, while two hands crammed in a left sided military knee high boot, other tentacles quickly slipped on the right one. Human fingers and demon threads alike secured the military style jacket to enclose the ample cleavage which had previously been so wantonly lusted by the latter demon before. Quickly crushing a simple cap in her grip, she placed it on top of her head, immediately covering up her tickle pink bangs and focusing her vision to the task at hand.

In rhythm with each other, the demonic tendrils of the zweihander hastily wrapped itself around as her hand gripped it tightly and firmly, as if she fully trusted it.

Another explosion in the distance, this time much closer.

Amber and azure gazed into each other, connecting with each other spiritually as well as physically. No words were needed. No contact was needed save the meeting of human flesh against rusted cold steel. Nothing was needed except the beating of a human heart and the consistant nothings of a demon.

It was time.

The female voice, sweet and flowing as untouched water, opened her mantra to the world. The male voice, cold and feral as lusting demons, spoke as she. As one.

"I am a lethal mercenary!"

Pushing her feet forward, the woman was off.

* * *

"My mission is to topple a sinister sword of the gods by any means necessary!"

Yells and cries of rage were realized as a sudden ambush was unleashed upon the unguarded group, seconds later screams issued naturally forth as death claimed several souls and wounded plenty others. Explosions, some well placed, others not, erupted to disorient. To crush the morale and spirit of the opposition. Thin timber shafts zipped by, puncturing armour and flesh. Some were iron tipped, many others in flames. Caught and sparked by the flaming rage, more still explosions violently quaked the surrounding decaying battlefield of deceased corpses and rendered wood.

"Regroup everyone! Regroup!"

A clash of swords, a distinct footwork of a parry, and then a cry of pain as cold steel crushed and cut flesh open. A pulling back of steel wire and a gruesome wet thud as a crossbow hit the mark of a human gut, the victim falling to his knees and screaming in agony. An unfamiliar sound of metal thrown into the dirt as two fighters abandoned their weapons and decided their pure fury was to decide destiny as they slammed against one another and fought directly on Mother Earth. Groans of aggression, exhaustion, and death contrasted the morning calm held only minutes ago.

"Dammit, this was supposed to be a simple rescue mission! Not another fuckin' slaughterhouse!"

A distorted sick gurgle as a thin sharpness easily slit open an airway, exposing it to the elements and beginning to pour in life to drain it. A second later, steel boots kicked the dying vessel over onto the ground, having incapacitated the enemy.

"Hold! Hold ground men!"

The battle raged on, cries and screams accompanying souls and swords eternally.

* * *

The recognizable galloping of war hoofs seeking to strike down the edge and the master.

"Soul Edge? Must be my lucky day!" The clank of war steel and a longarm. "I shall claim Soul Edge for myself and rule all!"

The war steed came closer and closer to the unprotected six of the soldier in white and the red blade carried. A smirk.

"If it rides or flies..."

The sword opened it's eye, blazing with hatred and oppression. A red corruption pulsated, causing the ground to suddenly disrupt as evil energy flowed from the length of the combat sword into the frail carbon flesh of the wielder, empowering humanity with demonic lust. In a flash, the mounted soldier saw nothing but fresh dirt as the opposing soldier with the sword of swords disappeared. As his war steed simply pushed onward, his frantic vision scouted left and right to search for what many humans lusted after in the years before and to come.

He would never know what his fate was until later.

An massive shockwave to his chest knocked the man out of commission as plates buckled and ribs cracked, silencing the victory charge into an unknown defeat.

"You can hijack it!"

The remaining one standing wasted no time in using the massive force to advantage, slim fingers hoisted the cracked reins of the steed, pulling to ensure it slowed. A pull guided it oppositely. The war steed rose up in fear, trying to get the unfamiliar rider off it as instincts sensed a hidden evil. Stroking gentle joints calmed it to submission and the beast obeyed. It and the rider turned. Onward north. Onward to the raging battle.

"Show us the meaning of haste, I bid you thee."

The sword eye in her hands closed, waiting and biding time for more fools to take.

* * *

"Verdammt scheisse!" Back to back, two comrade soldiers fought fiercely as their now exhausted bodies could. Holding back and repelling arrows and swords, parrying and impacting as needed. Even snap shooting and slicing as needed to simply survive.

"Peiper! Why in hell did we get caught like this with our pants down? I thought the area was clear!"

"Well I guess bad info on our part, Meyer? Or maybe it's a trap!"

"No shit it's a trap!"

A roar of rage as an enemy soldier, clad in chainmail, sprinted toward the little two-man army. Studying from the man's raging face alone, he was clearly overconfident. The small multi-barreled pistol the man carried was evidence enough. A shame really.

"If it shoots or explodes..."

With a dark smirk, the soldier named Peiper forced a sword hilt into the gut of his opponent, stunning the man enough for the former's hand to disarm the latter of the flintlock pistol in his sash. When the man recovered, he found himself staring down a black hole. For a split second, everything froze.

"You can use it as a weapon!"

And promptly executed the disarmed foe, blasting apart his face into an unrecognizable mess. A quick side swipe narrowly avoided a sloppy arrow and encouraged the other man to switch sides as both soldiers rolled off each others backs in a fluid motion, countering and defending against any and all threats facing their circle. Peiper held the battle sword in one hand, aiming the pistol at the hordes of enemies to his side. All the while Meyer shot and reloaded the small crossbow he had constantly, despite the fact that every shot fired dewindled the small quiver at an alarming rate.

Soon, he would be out and be defenseless. And after one fell, so would the other.

If they wanted to survive, they needed to retreat.

"Out Peiper, this area is too hot!"

A yell and a heated glance. "But Meyo! We have to look fo-"

Meyer interrupted his comrade with a slight jab to silence him. "She can take care of herself, Pie." With that, Meyer loaded another bolt into his longarm and fired. Holding up the wooden weapon, he smiled wryly.

"I'm out."

* * *

A tale of swords and souls, eternally retold. The battle raged onward to suicide, uncaring and cold to at whose lives it took. Cold numbing steel did not think, did not feel, did not empathize to a human's insides and emotion. The only connection it would make would be to kill and maim.

A slightly taller soldier clad in white armor and a black overcoat struck down his assailant quickly, the lifeblood spraying all over his armor and face due to the quick and heavy impact of a great zweihander nearly cleaving the formerly alive man in half. Not a moment too soon, he raised an iron clad arm and whirled it around in small circles.

"On me everyone! On me!"

Like a hive mind, all remaining friendly soldiers finished their enemies off and sprinted as fast as their exhausted spent bodies could let them. Regrouping to form a tight position, they all encircled the leader and awaited further orders. A pregnant pause for one second...then he rallied them.

"You are free to go anywhere!"

At once, every soldier simultaneously raised their shields to defend and counter as needed. A wave of twelve men charged out of the wood works, thinking they could break the circle and savor their victory. Their answers were spears and blades into the flesh, spilling fresh blood to stain the earth like so many times before. As one, the circle retracted their weapons, leaving behind dead corpses.

"Destroy anything!"

Every hand lit a short fuse... "One, two, five!" "Three sir!" "Three!" And tossed small orbs in every direction, the throwers all crouching to cover.

"And blow the crap out of everything!"

A massive explosion sent heat and shock ramming into the very frames of the encircled men, drowning out all other noises for a second before everything finally calmed into a traumatic standstill. Then, out from the woods, unveiled the enemy. Clad in knights heavy armour and red capes billowing forth to represent every high rank in the armed forces, the only emblem to discern them as an official military force was the wolf's head pauldron on their armour. It seemed the small band of crack mercenaries had the misfortune of running into the elite crack unit of the Wolfskrone. Ground teeth and tensed muscles, tightened weapons grips and the frantic mind trying to make clear of this random battle but reaching none.

One of the leading men stepped forth.

"Brave knights! You have fought valiantly as any soldier of mine has! We both have sustained losses on..."

A spat at worn dust beneath them. "Damn officers. When can they ever learn? The fuckin' militia never quits." A confident smirk of absolutes. "We're fuckin' Holy Free Holy."

Murmurs of agreement acknowledged the motto throughout the line, each member of the circle nodding and bowing their heads.

"...And I offer you to be our allies, but only if you disband and join own forces in our holy quest to seek the sword of the gods!"

An eternal pause stilled the air into the morning calm once again, flames and dust settling in the very air around the torn landscape. For what seemed like minutes or even hours, nothing so much as stirred from their positions.

The triumphant cry of a war steed.

A horse clad in the colors of the Wolfskrone raced into the kessel like a godsend from the above, the Gods having watched over and decided at last the mercenaries had met their final match. The steed rose proudly against the early morning sun, blocking out the rider from view for a good bit. The Wolf knights grinned and elated in triumph, they were to win this one. By contast, the mercenaries only bowed their heads in a final prayer and held fast their weapons than ever before. If this was to be their final stand, they would go down in a blaze of glory.

And that's when the sword held in her hands came alive.

* * *

The leader of the Wolfskrone stepped back, unconsciously shivering in fear. He knew the distinctive blaze of evil when he felt it...but actually seeing it...it rooted everything and everyone on the spot. He tried to ready his weapon, but it now felt like a massive block of gold in his hands. His mind was warning klaxons in every part of his body, the overload of fear and surprise freezing everything he had experienced and known in his lifetime to null.

Was this supposed to be a battle now? Or a massacre?

The rider dismounted from the horse, running a slow hand through the mane before whispering into it's ear. The steed complied and simply sat tight, unmoving from the spot where the rider had divided the two warring parties from each other and certain death. A leather military riding boot came into the sunlight...stepping forth...

And revealed the youthful form of a girl part of the mercenary forces. Her uniform was just like everyone else's, only missing the cold steel armour due a week of isolation. A simple enclosed white jacket with aluminum layered shoulderbroads and silver cyphers displayed her rank as a simple enlisted. Despite the fact this girl was not wearing any pants, the battle skirt held up by the quality leather belt and the Celtic silver buckle effectively hid her curves from predatory eyes. Her face was downcast to cover her identity, the roman pink long hair swaying as she walked and the military visor cap doing more than enough to mesmerize and instill. Murmurs and whispers from the various knights that she was an angel from the heavens. Same could not be said for the demonic weapon in her hand, it's organic tendrils caressing the human's arm in a creepy parasitic relationship. It already seemed the young angel was a slave to the demon now, unconsciously obeying and complying with every demand it wanted.

Before anyone knew it, the youth was face to face with the leader of the encirclement, staring hungrily like a beast. Lithe joints infused with inhuman blood twitched at the anticipation.

"Herr Rittmeister?"

The officer blinked in exhausted surprise, almost losing his steely composure. His hazy vision cleared to see one his best soldiers gazing calmly at him, her blue eyes full of pride now that had she regrouped with her own forces, despite the battered state they were in.

"Ah..."

Her smile...her eyes...that of an angel. She would obey down to the last word and carry out orders flawlessly. Whatever she was handed with, she would make it work with her body and years of experience in the battlefield, ensuring that her comrades survived.

The red blade she carried in her hands. It's cold stare of ennui and energy emitted that of Satan. It would strike down any human and revile in the victory. When it was in the angel's hands, it would to change her into a fallen who only knew how to survive. The way they both fought in the battlefield was almost witnessing a goddess fight alongside her husband. Only difference was, while goddesses would spare their wounded and surrendering foes, she would just simply execute them on the spot. There were even rumours of her...

The officer's gaze landed uncomfortably upon the infection festering deep inside her arm, the handle of her living sword mated with her own flesh. Always starving for more, always feeding for more, always relishing for more. It was an endless hunger which would never be satisfied by mere killing alone. He and the rest of the men had heard the stifled moans in the night, wondering if she knew or was even aware of what she was doing. It fed on her pleasures, her mind, her body, her emotions, her deepest desires, her hatred, her depression, her hopes, her love, her memories, her purest of wishes. It was endless and the angel was broken, her mind and body slowly becoming consumed by the virus. They were lucky the sword of the gods had chosen her as a host and refused to take oth-

No. It would be only a matter of time and events before it would infect another.

A dead smile graced her features, the peaceful expression a sharp contrast to the death around them. No...it matched the environment perfectly.

"Rittmeister?"

Wanting to spare precious lives from the insanity, the senior issued a strict order.

"Stand down Feldwebel Yhu."

The dead smile continued to linger, not fading once. Her infested arm shifted anxiously, then she parted lips to speak.

"But sir, while your mission is to hunt down a sword of the gods..." A nasty smirk, likely caused by the very demon itself. "It is mine to seek the ones who desire it."

The older man ground his teeth silently, incensed and surprised at the cruel counter. She was never the one to question orders. Not even when ordered to charge the enemy, first one in the line. The very words which had come forth from her lips...it wasn't like her at all.

"You mean to kill them all, Yhu?"

A suffocating silence. It deafened every single soul present. A valiant officer wishing to preserve the lives of souls and swords for another day. A calculating NCO desiring to hold true to her honor and truth, her love and loyalty torn between her sword and comrades. A demonic sword wishing for God knows what...a virus. Everyone else trapped in the middle.

Without a word, the young girl spun on her boot heel, swaying calmly back to the war steed separating the two parties from certain death. Only then did soldiers from both sides realize what the lump on the horse was as tense joints threw back the tattered old blanket covering it.

"Herr General!"

The man's front breast plate was completely shattered, crumpled into a dented piece of compromised metal by a blunt shock force. The belt proudly displaying the wolfs head was gone, half of it melted away by unholy flames. The limb gauntlets were mostly intact, but heavily scathed and marred. The chainmail and red uniform he wore underneathe was mostly in tatters, ripped in places and left in strands. Blood lazily dripped down the ends of his fingers and the destroyed armor barely hanging on by rendered steel. The slow heavy drip of the man's lifeblood was as deafening as their own heartbeats were; pounding in their ears, clouding the senses, clutching at their hearts.

A Wolfkrone's knight stepped up to confront the girl, face contorted with undying rage, but was quickly subdued by his allies. For reasons right there in front of them, it was best to listen to her. She held the cursed sword and knowing the powers of Soul Edge, it would not hesitate to wipe out all remaining life within it's reach. And even they would never stop to banish the evil from this world. They had swore on sacred ground and oath. To give their lives if needed be. They would not stop. They would not rest. Soul Edge could not stop them... and yet, it had. It was so close, just beyond their grasp! And yet, so far away.

"Fucking bitch! Host of the accursed sword!" Profanity was chosen as the weapon of choice, given the futile situation. Any sane man would have agreed, no matter how crazy it was. "Goddamm murderer! Killer!" The snapped Wolfskrone struggled to free his chains, but to no effect. It was useless when three others held him back. He continue to cry out futile screams of curses and divine punishment, ranting that fate would run it's path and bring the evil to justice.

She ignored the enemy soldier.

The female mercenary lifted a sword tip to the incapacitated man's neck, feeling the strong pulse flow from his artery, channeled in her weapon and into her grip hand. Back to the business at extortion and hostage-taking. "Don't worry, he's not dead..." And with added sadism, a hint of a dark smile whispered on her lips. "Yet."

This was not the loving girl they knew.

The click of a hammer being drawn back. The clank of swords being held at the ready.

"Identify yourself soldier."

She gave a flat glare, barely noticed from her back toward her faction.

"Feldwebel Yhu Jin-Ah, 014054408. Section leader of 25th Regiment, "Leibstandarte Alle Holy" Legi-"

"Fucking mercenary!" Hatred burned into cold azure, wishing to grant death upon the fallen angel. "Demon's slut!"

With those words, the zweihander's tip no longer threatened the unconscious enemy leader as it was now passively hanging from the girl's weakened fingers. Her head lowered to the point of nobody else could see her eyes without kneeling to her level. For a moment, her body tensed up, as if fearing something. Her mind scrambled and assaulted images far too dark for anyone else to understand.

Images of throbbing red and a tightened grip flashed into the angel's mind, everything else forgotten for a moment. Her fingers twitched.

"Give your body to that fucking monster?" Rage targeted it's glare to the tendrils elegantly snaked across the weapon like a gold bullion engraving. "That's understandable, since the thing has tentacles to fuck you all night with!"

Muffled moans and bursts of pants, completely lost in foggy numbness. Her eyes stung.

"I wonder if you're even pleasured to orgasm when you have a session. Oh wait! You do because it possesses you! Do you whisper "Master" when you want it good, huh?"

Words of sweet nothing played into ears, each one claiming equal holds of the other. Calmed into a stillness and peace. Her stomach wrenched.

"Dammit comrade!" The current leader barked sharply at the unruly soldier. "That's enough!"

A deep glare of utter hatred. "Soul Edge gives NO quarters! Neither shall we!" He resumed the verbal assault to the young girl. "Can you even get pregnant by a demon, huh bitch?" A smirk and a smug glare toward the tentacles embracing the metal on the weapon, noticing on how they resonated with a red liquid flowing in them. "Is that red colored cum, my dear?" The glare narrowed. "Or the blood of the countless innocents killed?"

A prolonged feeling of pure bliss, if only for moments. Equal smiles of insanity and numbness. Glazed over craziness, simply happy to be with each other. Content with love. Her heart imploded.

Without hesitance, the young woman defiantly marched toward the Wolfkrone side, her body slumped and head hung low. The weapon she held in her hands dragged in the dirt, suddenly heavy and weighing her down. It all felt so exhausting... The man continued ranting choice words at the female, slowly chipping away at her defense. Until he realized that the comrades who held him back previously were no longer holding back anymore. Until he realized that his unit had retreated meters back to avoid something.

"...Ta...haesoh...?"

He realized the demon, the virus, was standing in front of him.

Her body trembling, eyes stinging, insides a relatively dandy mess, the angel drew an arm back...

And slapped the enemy soldier across the face.

His expression was one of utter shock. Why did not she slay him and everyone else as expected? It was so easy, to simply grant a death wish and consume the horror. Soul Edge was in her grasp! The ultimate sword of the gods! The weapon that nearly everyone had heard legendary tales about and sought after! The weapon which granted access to power beyond imagination! Why not use it as intended to!

Then he saw it. And was confused.

"Go home to your kingdom and celebrate victory..." Her eyes were downcast and hidden, hiding something dark. But they all felt it.

"Drink...and be merry...for you have wiped out the last defenders of LAH..." Her tone of voice sweet and calming, but breaking, crumbling under the hurt.

Her heart ripped itself in two and in fourths as the next words came out of her mouth.

"An-"

A warm soothing hand firmly placed itself upon her shoulder, squeezing to bring her back into reality. "Feldwebel..." Her body still trembled, but it was no longer on edge as before. "Yhu. Let's catch up with the others."

In her depression, she had failed to notice the remainder of her once proud forces had moved out once again to refit and rest. They were quite a ways back and the enemy was only a few meters from her. How foolish. They could have killed them at any time but they chose not too. While she... Eyes averted the gaze of the Wolfskrone to the blood dripping from her legs. Then to her arm, infected with a gruesome growth she could feel throbbing inside her.

Her eyes gazed at the sword she weakly held, seeking and knowing. It was closed, peacefully at bliss and asleep.

"O-Okay..."

* * *

Author's Notes: It's been a long while ever since I have wrote anything on this site, much drama and tears shed over the course of a three year absence. I was previously "Yideungbyung Kim" if anyone can remember me, although I doubt it. Ahaha. Anyways, with that said, some of you might have a hard time trying to decode my writing style. To make a long story short, it is a writing style I somehow picked up and decided to use for most of my stories, as my stories tend to reflect back upon life and death itself through the mind of several characters I have created. As they live life, they also must face death. As they all love, they must face pain and agony. And they must live, as humans do. My writing style is a reflection of the things I have experienced through the eyes of others and myself as well. And to channel it into the souls I create and command unconsciously, I am extremely proud of my current writing style. It is a style I can only describe as "Life".

As for Soul Calibur Four...I demand a fifth game. Four was much too short and the story...did not have much to it. Sure, it had drama, but that drama tried too hard and in my opinion, was simply just laughable. As for the guest Star Wars characters as fighters in the game, sure dandy and all. But what's the point of their storyline? I mean, I am pretty sure Yoda or Vader never said to Luke Skywalker, "So I found a sword which surpassed our lightsabers and they could talk! :D". It just simply destroyed the canon of both Star Wars and Soul Calibur (althou SC a MUCH lesser extent). Oh right, back to SC4 review. Basically, the "extras" which were supposed to feature TONS of artwork, only had very little. I could not even count 30, that's how very little extras were in SC4. And what the fucking hell is up with the female character's bust size increasing in EVERY SINGLE GAME? I thought humans (females specifically) finished maturing at somewhere around their late teen years or early twenties? Sophita's bust size perhaps increased to DD or E cup, which I suppose is understandable since she did bear two children, but Ivy...as far as I know, the woman is a freaking virgin (or maybe she did have sex but not impregnated, but that is not likely, due to Ivy's cold personality). Ivy's bust size increased from her SC2 "D" to...F? Hell if I know, but just goes to show you, NamcoXBandai merger fails at the marketing. Sure, I know sex sells and all that, but to the point were you have NON-optional clothing destruction and make the female character's clothing as risque as possible (fuck even Talim got translucent pants), that's just a bit over the top.

Character wise, some of you might be turned off at the fact I do have original characters in the story. I do realize original characters are extremely risky to undertake in a canon universe, since many things can and will go wrong. However, while I do make my characters just as strong (if not over the top ridiculous God mode cheat at times), they tend to be extremely insecure or physically unable in someway. Basing from human emotions can cause them to do completely irrational things, especially if said character has a love interest. As for the canon characters themselves, I tend to avoid the canon since I am unsure of my ability to correctly write them out and the fact their stories are really left up to "Project Soul". But this is only the beginning of "Tales", so anything can happen really.

Thank you for reading this beginning and I humbly hope you can approve of it. The Soul Calibur fiction section needs a shot in the arm and I pray this story is one of the few which can deliver the meaning of "A Tale of Swords and Souls, Eternally Retold."


End file.
